Let Love In
by Burning 'Til There's Dark Blue
Summary: Sequel to Dark Blue and Iris. He looked at the little girl, and in her face he could see the woman who had died only a few years ago. But there was something wrong with Ziva's death... something that just didn't add up. Tiva.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything.

*~*~*

_I think about you all the time_

_But I don't need the same_

_It's lonely where you are _

_Come back down_

_And I won't tell 'em your name._

_~Name – Goo Goo Dolls~_

*~*~*

One very tired Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo sat in the bullpen, ignoring the sounds of useless chatter, machinery, and paper. He focused solely on the fact that his right arm was throbbing with a pain that covered most of his upper arm. The day before, he had the brilliant idea to fill in his angel-wing tattoo, which for the past 4 years had been black and white, with color – blue and gold, to be specific – forgetting how much it hurt when he first got the tattoo, or when he had his other tattoo filled in with color. He didn't remember anything about that, in fact, until at the tattoo parlor. The only compensation that he had was that the angel wings looked more realistic.

He had two tattoos on each arm. On his right arm, he had two angel wings on either side of his deceased fiancée's name, along with the dates of her birth and death.

Ziva David had died 4 years ago, after being shot by the serial killer and psychopath Demokritos Kazan. Agent Elizabeth Michael, also known as "Mini Probie," had been Kazan's target. Along with their deaths, he killed 16 other girls, all whom could not be identified without the help of the FBI and Jeffersonian.

With Ziva's death, she was replaced by one of the FBI agents who worked on the case, Christine "Chris" Kellan, a rather neurotic blue-eyed blonde who had worked the Homicide Division of the FBI before joining NCIS.

On his other arm was a tattoo of the _Apatura Iris _butterfly, along with his daughter's name in loopy cursive.

Before Ziva was killed, she and Tony had a daughter, who at the time of Ziva's death was 2 years old.

Iris Talia David-DiNozzo had been born in the United States thanks to pure luck. In fact, Iris was _alive _solely because of luck and Mossad. Ziva had been held captive in Somalia for 7 months before being rescued by Mossad and the NCIS agents in the region. She was flown to a Saudi Arabian hospital and treated for PTSD and numerous other injuries, and was flown back to the U.S. 2 days before her daughter was born.

Tony had not found out about Iris until several months after the girl's birth. Several months after that, he had proposed to Ziva, who accepted. They were set to marry the next year, in December.

Ziva was killed in November of that year.

He sighed, and glanced at the two photos he kept next to his desk. One was a sepia-toned picture of a smiling, laughing Ziva, her eyes almost closed with laughter and her skin lit by sunset light.

The other was of the three of them, taken by a lady at the park. Iris was 18 months old in the picture, sitting on the grass, laughing as her namesake butterfly flew past her hands. Ziva was leaning over next to her, her hands on her knees, laughing at Iris's reaction to the butterfly, looking at the camera with brilliant brown eyes. Tony was sitting down on the other side of his daughter, paying more attention to her than the camera, smiling.

Tony smiled, remembering how happy they had been that day.

"Daddy!"

His train of thought was interrupted as his 6-year-old daughter ran up to his desk, the visitor's badge hanging around her neck. He spun around in his chair and the little girl ran up to him, and then jumped up, throwing her arms around him.

"Hey, baby girl! Why are you here?" He asked her as she jumped onto his lap, smiling.

"Well, _Señora _Maria said that since I was already halfway through the book that I didn't really need to do any more work today, and then she drove me here and that one security guard gave me my visitor's badge and I didn't even have to go through the metal detector this time! And they didn't take away my pocketknife this time."

Tony just smiled.

Iris was, for all intents and purposes, a supergenius. The numerous specialists and psychologists they had seen all called her an _"Indigo Child". _With an IQ that rivaled Peter Bishop's and a fluency in a dozen languages, it was no surprise that numerous scientists wanted to perform further tests on the child to see just how high her IQ was – "because it's off the charts", McGee had explained when Tony asked why – and whether it made sense for the 6-year-old girl to continue taking AP High school level-courses. In fact, the child was already close to possessing her GED. Due to her intelligence, she could not attend a normal school, and instead was tutored by college grads looking for extra money in subjects such as Calculus, Psychology, Physics, World History, and several other subjects, and in languages by their neighbor, _Señora_ Maria Fernandez, a Colombian-born linguist, who was fluent in English, Spanish, Italian, French, Portuguese, Catalan, German, Hebrew, Turkish, Greek, Arabic, Farsi, Urdu, and several dialects of each language, among others. Naturally, she was a fantastic teacher.

Iris was everything Ziva could have been, had her father not trained her since her birth to be in Mossad.

Physically, she was almost exactly like Ziva. She was small-framed, in the lower growth percentile for her age. Her skin was light, but there was still an olive tone. Her hair was brilliant dark brown; several shades darker than Tony's, and it fell to her shoulders in a mess of curls. Aside from her eyes, she looked exactly like her mother. But her eyes looked nothing like her parents. They were, at most times, a clear, dark turquoise, bordering between cyan blue and mossy green. When there was a change in the light or her mood, they would range to a burning violet, a blue so dark that it was nearly black, a sky blue that was nearly white, an emerald green that captured all the shadows, a slate gray that showed no light, but mostly the brilliant turquoise.

She had also inherited both her parents' athleticism. She was taking ballet, jujitsu, wrestling, swimming, and soccer, and excelling at everything. MVP, and only 3 years after joining jujitsu, was already a red belt.

And yet she was as immature as anybody her age could be at times, laughing at everything and getting distracted by staplers and paperclips – Tony really hoped that she never learned how to kill people using office supplies - obsessed with Spongebob and Winnie The Pooh, and a mild obsession with a copy of Sims 3 that she had been given for her 5th birthday.

He watched his little girl as she ran off, intent on saying hello to everyone else in her extended, unbiological family. He smiled, then looked once more at the picture of Ziva on his desk, wondering what had been going through her mind at the time of the picture that made her laugh so much.

He thought about her all the time. And he wanted her back so much, but he knew he couldn't have her back.

Tony looked towards Iris, smiling.

His angel.

*~*~*

**A/N: **And so starts the sequel to both _Dark Blue _and _Iris, _which you should probably read before this or else it makes no sense. Anyway, I have another story to tell you.

Last Tuesday a pipe burst in my kitchen wall and flooded my dining I had no running water for 3 days, but I finally got it back on Thursday my laminated fake hardwood floor was irreparably damaged, so there is no floor in my dining room, only concrete. So I came home yesterday and the lower half of the drywall in my kitchen and dining room was gone, along with the cabinets, counter, and sink.

Just imagine coming home from school to find that your wall was gone. But at least it's better than coming home to gigantic red industrial sized fans, like what happened on Wednesday. But they were gone yesterday.

Not to mention I'm not going to have a floor soon in half of my house, because we have to replace all the hardwood. But I get a kitchen remodel and tile floor. Thank God for insurance and parents who are paying for everything else.

So if my story updates are a bit erratic, it's because of that.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: I'm finally updating! And I'm wearing socks from a mental hospital. They're extremely comfortable.

*~*~*

"_What would you do if you knew you were going to die?" Ziva asked, watching a 2-year-old Iris run around. Tony shrugged._

"_Find a way to live."_

*~*~*

Tony walked into the bullpen, looking at the two people already there, one sleeping and one on the computer.

"Probie, wake up!" He shouted. McGee jolted awake, startled. Tony walked to his desk, sitting down. "You aren't allowed to sleep on the job."

Chris stood up from her desk, walking over with an envelope. "This was on my desk when I arrived. It has your name on it."

Tony accepted the envelope, and held it at arm's length as he opened it – he didn't want a repeat of the plague incident. Thankfully, there was no white powder this time, only a letter written in what appeared to be Arabic.

"Chris."

The blonde looked up.

"Do you speak Arabic?"

"I know some. I'm not fluent, but I still know a few phrases and words."

"Translate." He handed her the letter, pacing back and forth.

Chris accepted the letter and began scanning it.

"Um… something about jihad… I don't know what this says…something about a Mossad officer… I can't tell whether that says mission or not…I'm pretty sure this is the name Aisha…I don't know why that's written in Hebrew…I think that says espionage but I'm not sure… the signature is in Hebrew, too."

"What's written in Hebrew?"

"Um… loosely, it says 'Don't let her cry' and it's signed with the name Zivit."

Tony froze.

"You okay?"

"What other languages are in that letter?"

"Turkish and I think Russian. None of which I speak. Why?"

"Zivit is a variant of Ziva."

Chris kept her blank facial expression.

"As in Ziva David…?"

"Oh. But… never mind."

"I need to get that to a translator."

"Do you know a translator?"

Tony took the letter and began half running out of the bullpen. "Tell Gibbs there was an emergency."

*~*~*

He knocked on the door, looking at the letter in his hand every few seconds to make sure it hadn't disintegrated. Finally, after two minutes of knocking, the door opened.

"Hi, Daddy. Why do you look like you've seen a porcupine?"

He decided not to question his daughter's unusual simile. "Is Señora Maria home?"

"I am here, Anthony." The woman in question appeared behind Iris. "What is it that you need?"

"A translation." He handed her the letter. Maria scanned the letter quickly. "Can you write it down?"

"Give me 5 minutes."

*~*~*

_32 Minutes Later…_

Tony sat on the couch, tapping his foot impatiently. Iris was sitting on the floor, playing with her toys – from what he could tell, the deformed green T-Rex was named Carlos, and was eating the Polly Pockets – and narrating the story.

Maria walked in, carrying the original letter and the notebook paper.

"I thought you said it would only take 5 minutes."

"It is very hard to translate a letter written in 4 different languages." Maria explained. "I did the best I could."

He looked at the notebook paper, written in Maria's neat cursive. Some words were only transliterated, but he knew enough Hebrew to understand.

_To Anthony DiNozzo:_

_I am not sure who will receive this, and I am not sure what you will think. The fact that you think I no longer am alive _(this was scratched out and retranslated several times) _may confuse you, but I am very much alive. I am being taken care of by an officer of the Mossad; according to them, caring for me is a mission. They are letting me stay in a very nice house; I know you would love it. The woman I am staying with, her name is Aisha. As for my daughter, don't let her cry for me, ever. They believe I am a spy, do they not? That, or they believe I am dead, and my daughter can never know the truth._

_Ani O'hevet Ot'cha,_

_Ani Chai._

_Zivit._

He stared at the letter, trying to comprehend what it said.

If he was correct, Ziva was alive.

He really hoped he was right.

*~*~*

**A/N**: I haven't updated in forever. Anyway, I'm wearing crazy people socks and I found a great Hebrew transliteration site. I will try to update more. But I don't know if I'll be able to.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: Still wearing psycho socks. I'm weird like that. XD Please ignore my crappy, transliterated Hebrew. I don't know that much.

*~*~*

"_You know, translating that would probably be a lot easier if you knew the language it was in." Tony commented. Ziva rolled her eyes._

"_I do know the languages. It is just… difficult to translate something written in more than one language."_

"_Would you do that?"_

"_Do what?"_

"_Write a letter in 7 different languages just to confuse everyone."_

"_Perhaps only four, and that is how you will know the letter is from me."_

"_I'll try to remember that."_

*~*~*

Tony threw the contents of the box onto the floor, frantically searching for what he knew probably wasn't still there, trying to comprehend everything was going on.

He had seen her in the morgue, dead. So how was she sending him a letter 4 years after her death?

_Because Ziva is a really good actress, and you know that, _his inner voice responded. He shrugged off the inner voice's statement and continued pulling various things out of the box.

"Damn it, Ziva, I thought you were supposed to be organized!" he hissed under his breath, not noticing the presence behind him.

"Daddy?"

He spun around at the sound of his daughter's voice. "Yes?"

"Do you need help looking for whatever you're looking for?" Iris asked, suddenly looking twice her age.

"I can…you see…yes, I do need help."

"You're looking for Mommy's papers." Iris stated, climbing onto the bed next to the box.

"And I can't find them."

"I know where they are." Iris stated calmly.

"Where?"

"In the basement."

"But we don't have-"

'Yes we do, Daddy. Come on." Iris grabbed his hand and began dragging him towards the front door. He barely had enough time to grab his keys from the table next to the door.

*~*~*

"Iris, how do you know about this?" Tony asked, concerned, as his daughter took off a necklace he didn't remember giving her, and used the key to open the door.

"Mommy showed me." She stated, as if it was obvious.

"When?"

"A few months ago."

"Is she the one who gave you the key?"

"Yes." Iris opened the door, revealing a very dusty staircase. "You were sleeping, but it's okay; it was Mommy who took me, not a serial killer."

He decided it was best not to question anything as he fumbled for the light switch, casting the hallway in a dusty light. Iris was already half running ahead.

It took 2 minutes to reach the basement – he honestly didn't even know the building had a basement – which was filled with stacks of boxes.

"Alright. Which box is it?" he asked. Iris looked around, thinking.

"That one." She pointed to a box that was on the very top of the tallest pile. _Of course it is. Ziva wouldn't want anybody but an 8'2" giant to get hold of that box._

"Do you know how heavy the box is?" he asked, still trying to figure out a way to get to the box.

"Approximately 7 pounds."

He froze. Sometimes he forgot how smart his daughter was.

"Do you think if I put you on my shoulders, you'll be able to reach the box?"

"That's what Mommy did." Iris said. Tony sat down, allowing the little girl to climb onto his shoulders.

"Hold on." He told her, before standing up.

*~*~*

"Papers, photos…" The two of them were sitting on the floor, going through the box's contents. "Why does she have _Neopets_?" He asked himself, pulling out the blue, starry, dinosaur-looking creature.

"From McDonald's." Iris explained.

"Of course she does." Tony muttered, pulling out an envelope and opening it. He scanned it quickly. "Iris, come here."

The little girl ran over quickly. "What is it?"

"This letter is for you." He explained, reading it along with the 6 year old.

_December 15, 2011_

_Keshet,_

_I hope you and your father will be able to find this letter, and I hope you understand it is not my fault that I am leaving you. __HaMa'eiven Yavin. I told you why I must leave; you were only two, and you may no longer understand, but the man who is making me leave is one whom I hope you will never meet. His name is Haider Abdul-Malik. He works for my father, another man I hope you will never meet for as long as you live. I will try and write when I can, but they must think I am dead, Keshet._

_Tell your father that I will always love him, even though I am in more trouble than I hope he will ever be in,_

_Ani ohevet ot'cha_

_Zivit_

"She still loves you, Daddy." Iris whispered.

"I know."

*~*~*

**A/N: **This is what I do when I have nothing to watch on TV.

The Hebrew means "Those who know understand", and Keshet is a Hebrew name meaning Rainbow. Review, please.


	4. Author's Note

**A/N: To anyone reading Let Love In, Inhumanity, Epsilon, and/or Silhouettes.**

**Due to reasons beyond my understanding, my parents have not only taken away my radio, iPod, TV, cell phone, the majority of my computer time, and anything else technological that they can think of, but today I learned that they blocked every single website on my account. Not only this, but they are also deleting the guest account on the computer. Therefore, until my grades are back to passing (according to my mom, above 95% because I'm "in gifted classes and should apply myself", I will be unable to update anything.**

**It is not my fault. My parents are being douche bags, and do not understand that I am not mentally capable of normal school.**

**I will update as soon as I can, but for now will probably be completely unable to update unless I can go to the library – a highly unlikely event, get a laptop – also very unlikely, or get a hold of either Gabby's, Katie's, or Bruce's computer to write. But seeing as I am pretty much grounded, even this note is really hard to write because they're deleting this account.**

**For now, all my stories are on indefinite hiatus. Y'all have absolutely no idea how mad and upset I am that I'm not being allowed to write. Not only can I not listen to music, but I'm not being allowed to write now, either.**

**I'm extremely, ridiculously sorry. You have no idea how much of a bitch I feel like for doing this, even though it's not my fault.**

**~Sarah**


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N**: I'm back from the dead! Anyway, I've been listening to the songs Sleepwalker by Adam Lambert, Savior and Like The Angel by Rise Against, You're My Angel by Switchfoot, Hurt by Christina Aguilera, and Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls. On repeat. Continually. That set the mood for this chapter.

* * *

"_Don't ever disappear like that again." Tony ordered, dragging a very annoyed Ziva out of the warehouse, where minutes earlier a gunfight had killed several terrorists and scared the crap out of Tony when he turned around to find Ziva missing._

"_I only disappear when it is necessary and you know that." Ziva replied. "And what would you do if I disappeared again?"_

"_I would track you down and drag you home."_

The dead should not be writing letters, Tony thought, and yet here's one from Ziva.

He stood up, holding the box under one arm, and walked to the door, shadowed by Iris.

"You're gonna find her, Daddy." Iris stated quietly.

"I hope so."

* * *

It was sunset when Gibbs looked up from his boat to see Iris standing at the top of the staircase, looking eerily similar to her mother in the dim lighting.

"What're you doing here?" Gibbs asked, putting down the sandpaper.

"Mommy's alive." Iris stated simply. "Daddy ran off to find her and he told me to stay here while he's off saving her. That's his quote, not mine." The 6 year old explained, walking down the stairs. "So can I stay here."

Gibbs chuckled. "I don't have a choice here, seeing as you were left with nothing other than a quote."

"Thank you! And do you have ice cream?"

* * *

Tony sat in front of the computer, staring blankly at the screen, thoughts racing.

It was impossible. Completely impossible.

But…

Ziva was intelligent enough that she could fake her death, and she was overprotective enough that she wouldn't tell anyone, simply to protect them. And she was a great actress when necessary.

The undercover mission, all those years ago, came to his mind. The hotel room was clear in his mind, as was the mental image of Ziva walking into the room from the balcony wearing a green silk dress. She looked simply stunning. The memory didn't do her justice.

He snapped back to reality as his computer started having a fit, flashing incessantly. The autopsy report on Ziva David had downloaded.

He opened the file, reading quickly, trying to find the inconsistencies.

And there were definitely inconsistencies.

He printed the document out, waiting impatiently. The moment all the papers were done printing, he grabbed them, stood up, and sprinted downstairs.

* * *

"Palmer!"

The medical examiner looked up reflexively as one very hassled-looking Tony ran into the morgue, clutching the papers to his chest like a life vest.

"Can I help you?"

"Ziva's alive. This report isn't right. She's alive."

"What are you talking about, Tony? She was shot. She's dead."

"No! I read the report. It's wrong! Wrong, I tell you! She's alive!"

"Did you have painkillers again?"

"The report says her death was caused by severe shock and exsanguination due to the severing of the brachial artery. But the doctor said that an embolism caused it. Why would he lie about that?"

"It was a mistake-"

"_And _the report also says that there was no other signs trauma to the area. That's a lie. She was in a car crash two days earlier and scraped her arm up. It was wrapped up when she was shot."

"What about the body, Tony? Did you think about that?"

"CSI! The guys on CSI have a company that they order all their fake bodies from, and all those bodies look and feel incredibly realistic."

"But-"

"They make the bodies using people as molds. Or models. Something like that."

"You've given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"

"Every day for the past 4 years. I've gone over that day in my head hundreds of times, and while I was reading this I realized that the damn gunshot wound wasn't fatal. It couldn't have been."

"Tony-"

"She's not dead, Palmer. And I'm gonna find her."

With that, Tony turned and left.

* * *

Vance wasn't used to house calls. Nor was he used to his agents walking into his house with complete disregard for laws, all for the purpose of yelling at him.

Needless to say, he was surprised when Tony walked into his living room, still holding onto his papers.

"Where is Ziva David?" Tony asked, getting straight to the point.

"Agent DiNozzo, you and I both know she died 4 years ago."

"Oh, but she didn't. I went over the report. The wound wasn't fatal. There were inconsistencies. She's alive – you and I both know it. So where is she?"

Vance frowned.

"How do I know you aren't going to run off and find her if I tell you where she is?"

"So she IS alive! You just admitted it."

"Come on, DiNozzo. We shouldn't have this conversation here."

* * *

"So where is she?" Tony asked, once the two were safely in the car.

"I don't know. The last time I heard from her, she was in New York City."

"Why didn't you tell me she was alive? It's been four years. Four fucking years that my daughter has had to live without a mother. And you're telling me now that she's been alive this entire time?"

"She's on an undercover mission trying to find a serial killer. You shouldn't concern yourself with it."

"Oh. Well that's just fine then. Let's let her do that. But wait – you don't know where she is. Did it ever occur to you that she could be dead? Or worse?" Tony replied sarcastically.

"DiNozzo –"

"For all I know, that serial killer could be holding her hostage in some underground dungeon with a bunch of ravenous zombies. And you're telling me not to worry about it."

"DiNozzo –"

"This is my fiancée we're talking about here. I'm gonna worry about her if I want to. Hell, I thought she was dead for 4 years, and the only reason I didn't go out and kill myself is because I didn't want to hurt her – yes, I know she was "dead" – or Iris that way. I promised her I wouldn't hurt myself. And now it turns out she's alive? Like hell I'm gonna sit around and wait for her to come back."

"DiNozzo –"

"I don't care if it's not allowed. I'm gonna go find her, and there's no stopping me. If I have to resign, I will, because I sure as hell am not gonna lose her for a third fucking time!"

"DiNozzo!"

"Yes, Director?"

"I was going to tell you, before you went off on your little rant, that you shouldn't concern yourself with what she's doing if you don't want anyone hurt, but obviously that's not going to work. So I'm giving you permission to get more information on her whereabouts."

"You're letting me go after her?"

"Yes, DiNozzo, I'm letting you find her."

"…Thank you."

* * *

**A/N: **I'm back! I finally got everything back, and I finally got over my writer's block, and I'm gonna write as much as I can before I go to summer school. (My Algebra grade couldn't be saved.) I love you all if you're still reading this. Seriously. The fact that you're reading this after my… I guess hiatus is the best word…I love you all. You have no idea how much I love you all right now.


End file.
